


Everything and Nothing

by sirimiri



Category: Multi-Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Gen, Prompt Fic, Weekly Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2018-12-20 03:21:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11912154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirimiri/pseuds/sirimiri
Summary: a collection of writing prompts; updates at least once every weekend. prompts are written usually within an hour, and characters involved could be anything from canon to a fandom or completely original from one of my own stories. basically a weekly exercise with my palgreenesweater.





	1. Prompt 1 - Teen Titans

**Author's Note:**

> **Rating:** G
> 
> **Fandom:** DC Comics / Teen Titans
> 
> **Prompt:**  
>  Your MC wakes up and can't find anyone. While searching, they do find an object that is either unusual or one that the character knows (or thinks they know) for a fact that they or the people they are looking for do not own. And the rest is up to you.

Looking back on it, he guessed he should have known something was wrong from the very start.

Despite the size of the Tower--the distance between their personal rooms, the common room, training room, so on and so forth--there was almost always some kind of sound coursing through the walls. Usually, he'd wake up to the soft whir of some kind of machinery or a loud thud from the training and weight rooms or, on less fortunate days, the blare of the alarm system. The others didn't really take notice of the former two; they didn't have the same sensitivity to slight sounds, smells... heck, even tastes. Rachel had a similar awareness to, uh. What would the word be? Vibes? Sixth sense was tricky to describe to those not privy to its little alerts and sensations, everything from prickling skin and raised hair to the unmistakable twist of nausea in your gut or an unexplainable feeling of sheer dread. --'course she didn't refer to her version as a 'sixth sense'. Nah. Just part of her 'empath' or ... demon-witchy abilities, he guessed. Whatever.

Anyway.

Gar rolled over, letting one arm swing just so that it knocked the pillow off his face. It flipped off the side of his bunk, letting out a muffled _phmff_ as it hit the floor below a second later. His arm hung limply over the edge of the mattress; it took about a minute for the blood rushing into his hand and fingers to make it feel buzzy. He let out a faint noise, dragging his hand up to rub at the crust in the edges of his eyes as one ear twitched. And it took a second, maybe five, before he became aware of the lack of whirring machinery. The absence of sound.

"Mfh?"

He pushed himself to sit upright and untangled his other arm from the snare of his sheets. Both ears, now free from the blankets and mattress and remaining pillow, raised to listen. But, still. He couldn't hear anything. Just the low, unsettling drone of silence and white noise. Usually, he liked 'weird'. Encouraged it, actually. But... this was the kind of 'weird' that even he found a little... _weird_.

Gar took an awkward moment to stretch his arms above his head before dropping them to his sides. He kicked the remaining sheets away from his legs, swinging them to hang over the edge of the bed for only a moment before shoving off to drop to the floor. He landed with a muffled _thud!_ , straightening quickly. Drowsiness still clung to the corners of his mind, giving the world a tipsy-turvy kinda feel. Bit fuzzy around the edges, too. Didn't stop him from venturing out of his room and into the long corridor that would lead him to the stairwell or elevator. He followed it in a trance-like state, moving more on auto-pilot and muscle memory than much else.

It wasn't until he'd reached the elevator, and fumbled a moment to remember the correct button, that he realized something else was... _weird_.

Most days, his and Rachel's side of the giant 'T' was kinda quiet. She, no duh, wasn't exactly a 'loud person' and he wasn't really the type to coop up in his room. Even when he was in his room he was usually playing on a Gameboy or lying in bed listening to an audiobook or napping. But in addition to the absence of noise on this end of the Tower, something else was missing: Rachel's 'vibe'.

He and Rachel didn't mesh well on the best of days. Not only did their personalities conflict but their powers, abilities, whatever you wanted to call them? Those kinda conflicted, too. At least on his end (if his bugged her, she definitely didn't let on). The more in tune he'd gotten with his sixth sense, the more her presence seemed to carry a chill. Not a mean kinda chill--just... a _chill_. Kinda like that unnerving breeze that trickles down the back of your neck when you're alone in the woods--or that shiver you get after hearing something kinda creepy. Sometimes it made just standing in the same area as her a bit of a jittery experience.

He'd learned to recognize her particular 'brand' of this sensation over the past couple years, learned to live with it, work with it, deal with it, all that teamwork and jazz. And, now, he couldn't help but realize that he hadn't felt it yet. He should have felt it now: that prickle in his shoulders and spine, like someone pressed an ice cube to his bare skin. But the air felt almost... stale.

Confused, he moved out of the elevator and into the next corridor, ears swiveling in some attempt to capture a sound of any kind. Again, Rachel wasn't someone who'd make a lot of sounds or talk to herself when she's alone (meditations aside), but... call him paranoid, he was starting to get a little nervous. _What time is it?_ He wondered, squinting his eyes. He hadn't taken the time to look out his own bedroom window before he'd left; the corridor was lit right now, but that didn't tell him much of anything. It had to be day time. But how late had he slept in?

Her bedroom door was in view now. Still no vibe. Maybe she'd already moved to the common room for the day? Or the roof?

"... hey, Rachel?" He called cautiously as he approached her door. A few seconds passed; the silence remained. "Rachel? Hey, are you in there?"

He knocked once. Twice. Still, no response.

"Uh. --if you don't wanna be bothered, just say so? I'll go away. I just, uh... --this is stupid, but I woke up and felt real wigged out--not the sick kinda wigged out, but the 'something isn't right' kinda wigged out, and I just wanted to make sure you were..." his babbling trailed off, hanging limply in the quiet. Several seconds, maybe even a full minute, passed before he let out an exasperated sigh and clenched his hands. Hopefully, it was just... that she wasn't in her room right now. Not that she'd decided to be cruel and let him simmer in his nerves, rational or irrational. Gar let out a small snort, his ears wilting. "Alright, well... --I'm gonna go check the living room. Pretty sure Kori's up."

He turned on his heel, moving down the corridor a bit quicker now, ears raising enough to twist and search for noise again. There still hadn't been much of anything. Not muffled chatter, no hum from a sliding door opening or shutting, no rumble from the plumbing if someone had turned on a sink or a shower or ran a bath. Come to think of it, he couldn't even remember if he'd heard birds outside his window; there was a blue jay who lived in Kori's garden that flew by every morning. It was _weird_.

And the common room wasn't any better.

Gar shambled into the room, pausing only a moment to itch the back of his calf with his toes. It was empty. Still. About as clean as the last time he'd seen it, too. There were still a couple pizza boxes open on the coffee table--Vic had sense enough to move the left over pizza to a single box which he'd probably stored in the fridge--he could see the Switch controllers on each end of the couch, a few blankets tossed absently across the cushions and an empty bowl of popcorn. One of Rachel's current reads, a thick black book with some kinda symbol etched into its cover, was sitting on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. His nose twitched and he picked up the faint smell of... something that felt oddly familiar, that he couldn't quite place.

"... Dudes?"

Something in his gut was starting to stir. An almost... twitchy feeling.

They couldn't be out on a mission, could they? If the Tower's alarms had gone off, it would have been more than enough to jump-start him out of bed. Vic or Kori would have left him some kind of message if they'd all just decided to go for a grocery run or something... --crap. He hadn't even thought to check his phone now that he was awake enough to realize it. That's probably what happened. They'd piled into the T-Car and gone on a grocery haul. Which meant, unless Kori spoke up, there'd be low chance Vic was gonna pick up food he'd actually like in the Tower. Another meat mania weekend, probably. Bacon in the mornings, BBQ at night.

"Ugh... great," he grumbled to himself as he rounded the couch, sighing and dropping against the center of it. A faint _'eep!'_ chirped from his throat as his hip bumped something hard and edged, its form just hidden by one of the scattered blankets. Rubbing the now sore spot he tossed the blanket aside, blinking curiously at the object.

A medium-sized Polaroid camera?

"... huh?"

A second's hesitation passed before he picked the thing up, weighing it in his hands and lifting it above his head, tilting it at more of an angle. He'd seen a couple Polaroid cameras before--even had one, himself, for a very short period of time before he was carted back to the States--but he'd never seen _this_ one. Where had it come from? Rachel barely even used her phone. Vic wouldn't be caught dead with one of these things; he had a camera in his cybernetic eye, anyway. Kori might like a little trinket like this ...but if it was Kori's, where would she've gotten it? And when? He would have noticed it if it'd been out last night or if she'd snapped a Kodak pic of his weekly Mario Kart annihilation at Vic's hands.

Gar shot a glance over his shoulder, eyeing the doorway a moment or so before lowering the camera and returning his attention to it. He rotated it in his palm, locating the button to pop the lens and flash open and lightly pressing it. Sure enough, the front snapped up. Maybe... it was the suddenness of the movement or how sharp the _'click!'_ cut through the fog of silence, but he felt goosebumps creep up his arms. An uneasy feeling drifted over him much like a cold sheet or a mist. He couldn't quite explain it. ...or understand it. But it had definitely happened. To make matters weirder, his fingers felt oddly energized; it was almost the same vibrant energy you felt brushing skin with someone you harbored feelings for. Hot. Electric. Enough to make your heartbeat pick up a few paces. Anxiety-inducing, if you were the type to be more nervous about the possibilities of a crush than excited. And, yeah. He knew that feeling well.

He leaned forward perhaps a bit too quickly, planting the camera on the coffee table and leaning away at almost the same speed. His palms found each other, rubbing absently at the prickling skin. The sensation faded and he felt his heart slow; the breath he'd been holding left him and he shook his head, snapping himself out of a haze he hadn't even realized he'd sank into. Gar shifted, raising his foot and lightly tapping his heel against the camera so it spun and faced away from him. Stupid as it sounded--even to himself--the action made him feel better. Didn't stop the chill from swelling in his stomach, though. Something was really... really not right. He should have checked his stupid phone as soon as he'd woken up; if he'd done that he'd at least have half an idea of where the heck everyone was. Or even what time it was. He still didn't know even that much. But that, now, was an easy fix.

With a grunt under his breath, Gar twisted and vaulted over the back of the couch, jogging the short distance from there and into the kitchen. The microwave was ahead, just to his left, and he rounded the small island to get a better look at the built in clock. 9:43am. Okay. So it was earlier than he thought. Maybe a little too early for a grocery haul, unless Vic wanted to beat the weekend rush.

The elevator didn't climb to the next floor fast enough; would've probably been faster if he'd just turned into a velociraptor and sprinted up the stairwell. _This must be what it feels like to be a speedster,_ he mused idly, one finger tapping at his folded arms. _It's stressing me out._ _Do elevators stress Wally out? Maybe I shouldn't ask him._ His ears jolted at the soft _ping!_ from the doors before they slid open, and he all but bolted down the hall to his room. He made a beeline for his bed, hauling himself up the side ladder and stretching across the mattress to dig through the sheets. His phone toppled free, and he caught it before it plummeted to the floor.

He checked the lock screen notifications. A text from Wally--probably received after he'd already fallen asleep last night. An image text from Imogene that he could only guess was an image of Bob Saget wishing him sweet dreams (shudder). A Pokemon Go update. ...no texts from Vic or Kori.

That couldn't be right.

His brow furrowed as he slid the screen open and punched in the passcode, opening the home screen and messages app. No texts from either of them. They didn't have to monitor each other, that'd be super annoying, but after everything that's happened over their time as a team it was kind of an unspoken agreement that they all liked to have an idea of where they all were. Vic, especially, wouldn't have left Tower grounds without shooting out a quick message to let everyone know where he was heading. Guess he could still be on Tower grounds if he was outside working on something, but--

And then, it caught his eye. It took a moment to puzzle together and recognize how wrong it was. But when the realization sank in, he felt that same uncomfortable prickling sensation creep up his spine until the hair on the back of his neck bristled.

It'd been so quiet all morning. It'd taken him maybe five minutes to get from the kitchen to the elevator, to his room. But the small clock at the top of his phone still read: 9:43am.


	2. Prompt 2 - Translucent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** T ; general creepiness
> 
>  **Fandom:** none / original content  & characters
> 
>  **Prompt:**  
>  He was a very ordinary man, too ordinary, with his suit, and perfectly-combed hair, and trimmed mustache, and normal height; in fact, he would have gone unnoticed, if it weren't for his yellow eyes.

Annabelle shifted her weight from one foot to the other, taking a moment to adjust where her backpack clung to her shoulders. She could feel her pencil box shift and might have heard the pencils and pens inside clatter from one side to the other if she hadn't had earbuds in. The light strums of guitar melded with whatever indie song was curling out of the cafe speakers, creating a strange--but oddly nice--sort of remix in her ears. She found it difficult to focus on the music, though, making herself look as busy and distracted by her phone as she could without her intents seeming too obvious.

The espresso machine hissed to life, heating milk while the beans were condensed into a bitter, but warm smelling, liquid. She noticed the barista shooting glances at her and wondered if she was being more obvious than she thought, or maybe it was just because she was regular enough for him to notice she'd been acting a little tense. Hopefully, it was the latter. She begged whatever higher power might be out there that this was the case.

Because, just to her right, the man still stood. One hand tucked into his suit pocket, the other loosely clutching the strap of a crisp looking briefcase. He was a very ordinary looking man. Average height, average weight. A nicely trimmed mustache, neatly combed hair. His suit had to be new or, at least, very well kept--like his most valued article of clothing. Even in this small district of Savannah, he would have gone unnoticed in a crowd; despite the large tourist population this time of year, it wasn't uncommon for locals to walk to work or at least walk halfway. She wouldn't have picked him out, herself, either if it hadn't been for one. Small. Thing.

Moments ago, as she'd slid into the cafe and into the morning rush line, she'd had a bit of a miscalculation. She assumed the person she was ducking behind would continue to eyeball the custom coffee mugs and thermoses but, of course, they hadn't. She collided with them, their elbow knocking her phone out of her fingers. Her earbuds snapped free and the phone clattered to the ground. She didn't know if the stranger had even noticed what they'd accidentally done because they didn't glance twice. Typical morning rush cafe-goer, pre-caffeine. She shrugged it off and ducked to snatch her phone from the tiles before someone else had the chance to step on it, and that was precisely the moment he'd moved in.

The man scooped her phone off the ground and checked it quietly, turning it in his palm to eye the screen for scratches, cracks or other damage. Annabelle quickly straightened and removed one of her earbuds (an unnecessary gesture, as they were no longer attached to anything, but more an attempt to be polite), holding out a hand to accept it back.

"Looks good," the man said, and he smiled as he handed it to her.

She'd felt her blood run cold.

The man--a very ordinary looking man--continued to smile. But it wasn't the easy curve of his lips or his perfectly white teeth that had so violently snagged her attention. It was his eyes. His sharp, vibrant yellow eyes, and the bottomless black pupils in the centers of each iris.

Somehow, she'd thought fast enough to fumble the phone out of his fingers. She'd smiled back, even managing to emit a sheepish little chuckle as she nodded her head in gratitude. "Hey, thanks! --yeah, uh. --just got this recently. Suck if it was chipped."

"Mm," the man had hummed, leaning back, the smile ever present on his lips. "That it would. Be careful, now."

She'd nodded, slowing every muscle in her body so she turned back to face the line like a normal person might have. Like someone who couldn't see the _imposters_ would. Her fingers grasped for the earbud cord and found it. Plugging it back in took a try or two, as her hands had suddenly grown uncomfortably shaky, but she managed without her attempts looking too clear.

The rest of the trip through the line, she was painfully aware of the weight of his gaze. It sat on her shoulder very much like a small bird might, just light enough to be felt. Just light enough to know it was there. The line shuffled forward; this cafe knew how to handle the morning rush better than any of the others she'd been in. She swore they had it down to a hard science or a formula or something--and even had a Formula B and C in case some anomaly in the morning threw them off course like a shipment ran late or a large box of supplies spilled. But this morning she found it impossible to focus on how swift the baristas were or trying to crack the code in their movements.

Annabelle stood, now, tapping idly at the side of her phone as though messing with the volume controls. She'd already turned them to a bare minimum so she could eavesdrop on anything the man said or anything that was said to him. They'd been waiting for their drinks for just a couple minutes but, so far, no one had mentioned his unnatural eye color--or even reacted to it. She knew why. Of course, she had to know why.

None of them could see it. Not unless he _wanted_ them to.

But her? Mm. She'd been gifted--or cursed, 'pending on your perspective--with eyes that could see the supernatural regardless of their will or disguise. Each being had their set of clues. Something that made them unusual or extraordinary in a crowd. Some were much more obvious than others. Had he had a pair of sunglasses--and had they crossed paths outdoors where it would have been appropriate for him to be wearing them--she may not have noticed his specific clue. But based off his behavior with the baristas, with the loud tourists lingering by the baked goods, he must be confident enough in his disguise to not feel the need for a little something extra. He hadn't anticipated someone like her. Someone who could see the parts of him that were _really_ him. And ... it was that exact thought that made her wary.

His eyes were his. But the _suit_ wasn't. Not the fabric. Not the _skin_.

A shiver crawled the length of her spine. Her fingers closed around her phone just the slightest bit tighter. The smallest tinge of sadness, of guilt, soured her throat. She wondered who it'd belonged to before he came to... find it. She wondered what he was doing in this small downtown coffee shop. She wondered why he'd bothered.

She gnawed the corner of her lip, reaching up with her free hand to twist at one of her thick, black curls. It looped once around her finger before bouncing back into place, its tip lightly brushing against her brow.

"Uh--got a medium hazelnut latte with a dash of cinnamon for 'B'?" The barista called, sliding the paper cup across the counter. Annabelle straightened and inhaled, nodding as she stepped forward to claim it. 'B'. That's what she'd told the barista after he'd taken her order. His brow had furrowed--obviously confused--but he'd said nothing as he'd scrawled the letter on the cup in place of her usual name or nickname. Call her paranoid, but... she hadn't wanted the man to know her name. Or even have an idea of it. 'B' might still be a risk, as Dean would sometimes call her 'Belle', but it was all she could think of without making it clear as day she was using something uncanny. Maybe she could text him once she was out of here. Request that he lay off the nickname for a few days or, at least, until she figured out if the yellow-eyed man was going to be a direct threat. He was a threat, either way. Accident or deliberate... _someone_ had died to give him that suit.

She ducked away from the counter, using the movement to lift the latte to her lips and take a brisk sip. It was too hot to enjoy but not so hot that her lips and tongue came away scalded. She kept her eyes locked forward, shifting her steps to walk sideways through the gap between a few friends. Her hand stretched out and her palm flattened against the door's glass, fingers splayed across the cool, clear surface.

Annabelle knew better. She knew not to look. But a voice, small, whispering, curious, rose in the back of her mind. _You need to check_ , it breathed. _You have to check_.

She sucked in a breath, throwing a glance over her shoulder.

The yellow eyes were staring right back at her. The man was smiling again.

He raised a hand in a silent wave. His name was called... or the name attached to the suit was called... but he didn't turn to retrieve his coffee. He smiled. And his hand dropped back to his side.

Annabelle smiled back. Then, she shoved through the cafe doors and into the crisp autumn air.

She could still feel the weight on her shoulders. Light. But just heavy enough to remind her it was still there.


	3. Prompt 3 - Translucent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** G
> 
> **Fandom:** none / original content  & characters
> 
> **Prompt:**  
>  Your MC comes home and notices that it's freezing inside. It turns out that all of the windows open, and other things have gone amiss.

After the week--heck, the day--she'd been having, the last thing she wanted to come home to was this.

She probably should have known something was off the moment her hand closed around the doorknob. But, given that she was not only wearing gloves but it WAS also the middle of January, she hadn't thought much of the frozen metal. She hadn't even thought twice about how it seemed frozen or jammed or just... generally a pain in the butt to force open. It was an old house, y'know. Down in one of the older districts of Savannah. Figures that it'd get all kinds of weird problems and stuff during the more extreme climates of the year.

After she'd all but put her knee through the door getting it to open, Annabelle stumbled inside. She grunted, fumbling her keys back into her satchel. It was about then that she caught onto why the door was really stuck.

Her breath clouded in a thin fog, despite the fact that she was now indoors. Despite the fact that the heater should be on and keeping their little home at a more comfortable temperature despite the frozen air outside. She quickly looked up, taking the necessary steps further into the living area to survey the house. The first thing she noticed was the open windows. The second thing was that the TV was on and fizzing with static, a dull squealing noise curling from the speakers.

"... --Mom??" She called, turning away from the small living area and moving into the kitchen. Her boots echoed a heavy thmp thmp! in the silence that followed. The kitchen was empty, too. And the window just above the sink was open. A slow crawling feeling of dread crept up her spine and she swallowed, leaning out of the kitchen so her back pressed against the wall. She slanted her gaze to either side of her.

The threat of burglary was kind of decent. The open windows, the fact an intruder could still be in the house--she couldn't be stupid about that. Especially after last autumn. But... the TV was still in the living room. The microwave was still in the kitchen. Burglary, maybe not... but... there were plenty of other threats that would want to break into a house.

Into... _her_ house...

Annabelle pushed just enough off the wall to slide her hand into her back pocket. Her fingers found her phone and she pulled it up and around to her, clicking the button to activate the screen. It flickered once. Twice. The display scrambled, then shut off. She could feel the heat from the phone's system and battery warm the fingers of her gloves. Her brow furrowed and she chewed the inside of her cheek, throwing a glance towards the living room where the TV continued to squeal faintly.

They were all the right signs, so far. All _his_ signs. But... it was best not to chance it.

She nodded once and side-stepped back to the door, shouldering through it and half-jogging, half-bounding, down the small porch steps. Removing one glove, she clicked the button on her phone until the device slowly came back to life. She unlocked it and scrolled until she located Dean's phone number. He'd probably just returned to his dorm... and knowing Dean, he wouldn't be taking an after-class nap.

The phone rang three times before he picked up.

"Uh, hey, Belle? Did you forget to tell me something during class? --I didn't accidentally snag one of your erasers again, did I?"

"No, the eraser troll failed to strike today," she muttered, smiling faintly as she pocketed her ungloved hand and sent a glance towards her house. The windows on the second floor were open, too. "... I know this is really last minute and you probably wanna settle in for the rest of the day but... there a chance you could come by my place?"

The line stayed quiet for a couple seconds.

"Um. Yeah--I mean... --wait, are you okay?"

"Think so." She raised and dropped her shoulders in a heavy shrug. "All the windows on my house are wide open and I don't think anyone's home. It's freezing inside. All the tech's acting weird."

"Oh. Wow, uh. --do ...--should I call the police?"

"Not yet."

"--Annabelle, are you... --that could be really serious, what if someone's--"

"I'm not worried about some _one_ , I'm worried about some _thing_ ," she said, lowering her voice slightly. Dean scoffed on the other end.

"That's much more reassuring, thank you."

"Dean."

"I'm serious."

"So am I." Annabelle frowned, rocking on her heels as she turned her attention downward, sighing and shaking her head. "... look. There is a chance it's just Carter. He... does stuff like this when he's sad."

"Again: reassuring."

"--listen," she groaned, twisting to take a few idle steps down the sidewalk before turning to face her porch again. "All I'm saying is that I don't want to call... _anyone_ if it's just Carter. That... could just end badly. Certain people already think I'm kind of a loon as it is."

A mild chuckle came from the other end of the line and she rolled her eyes, adding: "Yeah, yeah, I know. Xander would say that I am. And... well, he's not wrong. I guess."

"Belle," Dean sighed, "I just... --yeah, I can come over. --I'll be over soon as I can. Putting my shoes back on right now."

"Thanks," she said, planting a hand on her hip. "I'm gonna go inside and see if it is him."

"--you're not going to wait until I get there?"

She shook her head. "If it is him, I gotta try to calm him back down before my family gets home. If it's not him... well, then... I'll, uh, figure that out as I go."

"... _again_ \--"

"Reassuring, I know."

"Ugh--just... --I don't know--I'm running out of my dorm right now, I'll be there ASAP. Please be careful. --wait, do you want me to stay on the line? I can--"

"My phone's going to stop working as soon as I go back into the house," she said, frowning. "Look, I'll be fine. You just be careful getting here. Don't do anything stupid and look both ways before crossing through squares."

"Sure, yeah."

"Okay. ...thank you. I'll, uh. I'll see you in a few."

She pulled the phone away from her ear and pressed her thumb to the 'end call' symbol. The phone went black. With a small huff, Annabelle turned to look at the house again. She eyed it, watching the windows for any sign of movement--any sign that something could be watching her from behind the curtains or in the shadows of a dimly lit room. But she didn't see anything. It looked peaceful. The only things that moved were the curtains, themselves, fluttering in the chilled winter's breath. She inhaled. Held it. Nodded. And ventured forward.

She kept the front door ajar on the chance she might wind up sprinting out of it. She grabbed an umbrella from the coat closet; it wasn't much of a defense, but it was something--and the quickest thing she could get without wandering too far into the house. Maybe she could trade it off for something better as she explored. The first priority, however: get to her room.

The trek from the hallway, through the living room and up the tiny stairwell was easy enough. She noted how it seemed to get colder the further she went--or, at least, the visible breath billowing from her nose and lips became thicker and thicker. Icy air pinched her exposed cheeks, nose and ears, and her still un-gloved hand. From her mother's room, she could hear the bedside radio-clock crackling. She clutched the umbrella, moving almost sideways down the short hallway until she reached her bedroom door. So far, so good, she thought. She touched her fingers to the door and pushed inside.

It felt like all the remaining heat was leeched from her body. Her knees wobbled, and she had to fumble for the doorknob to grasp and steady herself.

The room seemed undisturbed; picture-perfect in just the mild mess she'd left it. The only difference was caused by the window. It was open, now. Some of the papers on her desk, the work that had been scattered on her floor, had been blown to the wall from the wind. But nothing was missing. Or broken. Just... moved slightly.

Annabelle straightened, stepping into the room with some caution. As she did she craned her neck, attempting to round and peer into her small closet just across from the foot of her bed. And... sure enough... there he was.

Carter was curled at the front of her closet. His knees were pressed against his chest and his forearms draped across them, his wren-brown hair mussed where it was pressed to his forehead and his arm. She could see the faint outlines of some of her shoes and clothes through his transparent body. Every few seconds his faded form would twitch and she'd hear a sniff or whimper, soft as a breath.

She knelt and set the umbrella on the floor, slowly easing off her satchel as well. He didn't move or acknowledge her presence, though she knew without a doubt he was at least aware of her.

"... Carter," she said quietly. "...hey. Hey, I'm home, now. You're not alone anymore."

He didn't move. She didn't speak again. She folded her hands on her knees and sat back on her haunches, watching him. Silent. Waiting for him to do or say something.

It was... always strange. Watching ghosts 'cry'. They had no tears to shed. Their images would still convulse or flicker. Sometimes they even 'choked' on air their lungs didn't need. She wondered if this was 'phantom pain' for them. Like when amputees still itch or burn or sting in the limbs they'd lost. Ghosts were more than capable of feeling and holding onto emotions, so... who's to say those physical pains couldn't still be felt as well?

Slowly, Annabelle leaned forward, crawling the small distance between her and the closet. She grunted as she shifted her weight around and tucked her legs under her, leaning her back against the threshold's border. Carter's form continued to twitch every few seconds, but he made no effort to disappear or fade into the wall or floor. That, at least, was a good sign.

She pursed her lips. A few seconds passed before she stretched one arm across her, sliding her fingers into the spaces around his. His 'skin' felt whispy, like grasping loose sand beneath the waves. But she held on best she could and tilted her head to rest it against the wall.

"... you're not alone anymore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the 2 week delay in updates! things have been a bit silly on my end with classes and such. hopefully i'll be back on schedule now! thank you for reading!!


	4. Prompt 4 - Teen Titans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** G
> 
> **Fandom:** DC Comics / Teen Titans
> 
> **Prompt:**  
>  The night sky was full of stars but no moon.

There was something melancholic about nights like this. He didn't know how to put it into words or how to describe it, really. Just that despite the vast endlessness of the black, the small dots and specks of 'space dust' littered throughout the void above him, he always felt this tiny sense of fear and dread form in the pit of his ribs. Maybe it was because he knew the quiet, the dark would disappear in only a few hours and he'd be left with morning. In the past, that'd meant what little freedom he had would wither away. But he didn't have to worry about that anymore... he shouldn't have to.

Truth be told, he didn't know why he'd ventured onto the Tower roof tonight. It'd been an instance where he'd just felt the pull of the night air and simply walking outside onto the island didn't feel satisfactory enough. He liked being off the ground; elevation made him feel oddly safe.

Gar sighed out slowly, watching the spot where he was pretty sure the sky ended and the ocean began. On nights like this--when the moon wasn't present to grant him a reflection--it was hard to tell exactly where the horizon's line drew. In an odd sort of way, he didn't mind. But it didn't help to lift that tiny feeling of sadness stirring in his stomach. He swung his legs a little from where they dangled off the edge of the Tower, resting his palms just on the roof's slope. Below, the waves created that familiar dull crash as they rolled against the island rocks. It was a nice sort of 'white noise'. One he'd instantly gotten used to. One he missed when he was away at the Manor or back with the Patrol. The Manor could be too quiet sometimes... and the Patrol's HQ seemed to have the opposite problem where city life could get a bit too loud for his comfort.

He tilted his head back, staring into the black abyss above.

"Garfield?"

The roof door had opened a few seconds ago--he'd heard it but hadn't felt any desire to see who else was awake at this hour. Kori's soft voice was an unsurprising one; she could easily go for many days without sleep and would more than often busy herself with night activities while the rest of them caught a few 'z's.

He turned his head enough to watch her as she approached, returning her gentle smile with one of his own. "Hey, Kori."

"You cannot sleep?" She asked, taking a seat on the Tower's edge just to his right. He shrugged, feeling his smile weaken.

"Yeah, I dunno. Guess it's just one of those nights."

"Mmm," she hummed, tugging her legs up so her heels rested on the Tower's slope and she wrapped her arms around her knees. They fell quiet for a minute or two. Then, he turned his head to look at her.

"How'd you know I was out here?"

Kori shrugged, tilting her head so it rested on her shoulder. "I did not. ...I also wanted to come to the roof and gaze at the stars. There is no moon tonight and we are far enough outside the city to see them as they are." She paused. Then, a wider smile spread across her lips. "They are beautiful."

"Yeah, they're pretty cool," he said, leaning back again to cast his eyes upward. "I like the ones that're in those cloud things."

She giggled softly. They fell silent for another moment. Then, she spoke again.

"When I was young, I would often fly far out from the city to watch the stars at night. Some of them were so close, and there would often be comets passing. They were so radiant and lovely..." she trailed off. He could feel a slight shift in the air, recognizing it as a similar--but still different--melancholy that he often felt with the stars. Hers, he guessed, had more of a nostalgic vibe to it than his. He heard her sigh, felt her tilt her head to glance at him. "... did you ever look to the stars in your youth?"

Nervousness twisted in his stomach, but he easily slipped into a small smile, lifting one shoulder in a lazy little shrug.

"Yeah, sometimes," he answered. "I, uh. I'd climb out my window and up this old drain pipe to get to the roof. There was this spot right in the middle I liked to sit so I couldn't see the ground. ... I'd sit out there all night if I could until the sun started coming up. Then back down the drain pipe I'd go aaaand through the window."

"How wonderful," she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. He chuckled hollowly.

"Yeah. It, uh. ...it was a nice escape."

"Did you sleep at all those nights? Or, mornings, perhaps?"

Depends on how drunk Eddie and Bates would get the previous night. If their hangovers kept them clocked out for a while into the morning then, yeah... he did. "Eh. Sometimes. Kinda depended on the day's activities, y'know? I didn't really mind." He flashed her a grin. "You know me. Always full of energy and raring to go."

Her smile grew and one of her brows raised. "Yes. You have always been very lively. Except for the times you have spent many days playing a game without end. After that, you are quite... silly."

He couldn't help but laugh at that. "Thanks for using a nice word. --but, hey! I haven't done that in a while!"

"You just did not a month ago!" She said, her smile widening further into a light grin. "I believe you were replaying that series with the space exploration that is so intriguing."

"Oh, right. I did just replay all of Mass Effect, didn't I?" He felt his grin grow a little sheepish, and he scratched at one of his ears. "Whoops. --I can't help it, though. They're good games. And, whadaya know?" He pointed at the sky. "Space theme."

Kori let out a small laugh, nodding her head. "Yes. How appropriate." She sat up a little, adjusting her arms around her legs as she tilted her head. "Who did you give your heart to this time, 'commander'?"

"Tali," he answered, shrugging and looking back up at the sky. "She's the best. I've liked her since the first time I played, so I'm kinda biased. ...I always feel real, uh. I dunno. --Finishing a game is always kinda a bittersweet feeling, y'know? Like you had fun and it was an adventure but now it's over. I never really know what to do with myself when it ends."

"Perhaps we could go on an adventure."

He blinked, turning his head to look at her again. "...--wait. You mean, like, right now?"

"Yes," she said, flashing him a smile. "Would you like to join me?"

"It's 3am," he said, despite the wide grin spreading over his own features, "what'd you have in mind?"

Kori hummed, pursing her lips in exaggerated thought. "There is the gas station at the corner street that is always open. We could get the soft serve ice cream or even the 'slushie' and take it to the park. The swings should be unclaimed at this hour."

"Don't test me, Kori," he warned, smirking and giving her a bounce of his brows. "I'll totally swing for 5 hours straight without stopping--you should know this by now."

She laughed, dropping her arms to her sides and leaning forward, gliding into the air with ease. He pushed to his feet, smirk softening into a wide smile as she turned to face him.

"Shall we, then?" She asked, holding her arms out to her sides and spreading her palms. He nodded, shooting her a double finger-gun.

"You're on, space babe."

And he leaped off the Tower's edge, taking form of a barn owl. They swooped through the air, rounding the Tower and soaring over the rolling ocean to the city.


End file.
